D'Artagnan, the King Maker — page 186: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

CHAPTER XXIV. THE GRIP OF PORTHOS. At the clank of a spurred heel, steady and regular as a pump-beat, the two traitorous nobles, and the monk as well, shrank back; but the last, being the more coura- geous, formed the bulwark to the others. All three stared with consternation at the stranger, who advanced three paces, as if timed, brought his heels together and saluted Don Juan with exactness, speaking of ten or twelve years’ daily discipline. “Your orders, Majesty?” said he, fixing his eyes on the trio, as if in anticipation of their being the offenders. “As my Captain of Lifeguards, arrest those two worthies for revolt against their liege.” In his gesture he conspicuously excluded the holy brother. D’Artagnan’s sword was drawn, but hung by its sword-knot from his wrist, so as to leave his hands free. They had their own out, but their grasp trembled with awe, if not with terror. Nevertheless, he took another forward step, which thrust him between them, and, clap- ping a hand on their shoulders, where they closed like a vise, he said, in a clear voice, without any emotion what- ever: , “By order of the King of Portugal, you are my pris- oners !” The canvas had been furled up at the doorway. There appeared, with naked cutlasses, the Messier’s boat’s-crew, with Lieutenant Constant next the opening. On seeing this formidable array, in regular uniform, Dons Joa and Rodrigo were depressed into hopelessness, and silently handed their weapons to the captain. “Hang it all!’ muttered the latter, “where is friend Porthos? I could wish him here to relieve me of this extra captive. Two birds in the hand are embarrassing !”’ Transferring the pair to the sailors, he found that he had not come out of the cavern any too soon. Rounding the headland, but fairly in the offing, so CNG OOOKS (C©) im